


...can you save me from myself?

by charming_syrai



Category: X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)
Genre: F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, x3 denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-05
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charming_syrai/pseuds/charming_syrai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She could still back away. Gods, he wished she would – do it, change your mind, get the fuck away from here, you fucking idiot - because if she didn't... she'd regret it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ajattra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajattra/gifts).



One single click and there was a small, barely visible bolt of fire between his fingertips, warm and familiar. Strong; destructive.

  
Just like its owner.

  
God, he absolutely loved this new, dark leather outfit of his as it came with a fucking gorgeous flame thrower device attached to his arm, always there, never failing to create fire for him to play with. Although, he had to admit; at times he did miss his old lighter (as it had been his only friend for many years ), especially the comforting sound it made. He still had it, somewhere, but rarely bothered to play with it. Or had time, really.

  
He closed his fist killing the fire, only to bring it back to life a second after.

  
In silence he took in his surroundings, ignoring the massive amount of people - humans - around him, ignoring the elbows that hit him, feet that stepped on his toes again and again, heads blocking his view, all those loud, deafening screams full of fear and hatred directed at his kind... there was a line of mutants, hundreds of them, further away from the crowd of humans among which he stood.

  
What a fucking day it would be... he felt bad for what he was about to do, but only for a moment. They would deserve it, those mutants lined up there, each and every one of them. They didn't deserve to be alive.

  
And then... what the fuck?

  
The instant Pyro recognized her familiar figure, standing there in the middle of the nervous crowd, looking so lost, so out of place, he felt far too familiar jolt of frustration wash over him and the flame he'd been slowly growing in his hand, was suffocated in a flash.

  
He knew why she was there... He knew exactly what she was doing and why, and it angered him like nothing else ever could.

  
For Bobby, always for Bobby fucking Drake.

  
Well, he had to give it to her – and he did, but bitterly, with a sour taste on his tongue - obviously some things never changed. She still possessed the ability to get under his skin by just being there, breathing. Seriously, he had thought he couldn't get any angrier than he already had been because of these pathetic fools, wanting to rid their powers, but fuck, all it took was a glimpse of her brown hair and grey skunk stripes; a glimpse of her heartbroken face and the simple knowledge that she was there. She was there, alone, defensless, completely unprepared for what would happen if he decided to make his presence known.

  
She didn't know any of those things, though, because she, as usual, thought she could take care of herself and that she could fight. She relied on her power, on her gift. And a great gift it was, he had never denied that – if it had been someone else, she would've been right, she would have been able to fight. But unlike her delusions described, Pyro, he wasn't afraid of her power, he didn't fear it like most did and he never had. When she had saved her life by using her power on Wolverine - after been pierced by his long claws, of course, so in a way the shithead had deserved it anyway – everyone had been whispering for weeks, stepping aside whenever she got too close.

  
Everyone, but him. It was only later that she actually got to use her power on Pyro himself, giving him a reason to fear – but he didn't. In all honesty, he fucking liked it, he liked the way it felt when she sucked his energy into herself, made him feel dead and alive at the same time, took a piece of him and never gave it back – it would always stay with her, inside her head, she'd always remember. Because then, only then, he didn't feel so alone anymore. So why fear it? She didn't know that, either. There's so little you know, so little, but I could tell you, teach you if you'd let me, if only you'd let me. But she had always been too stubborn to admit the truth, always acting so sure, so tough when in reality, she was anything but... a golden bird in a rusty cage, that was what she was, at least as long as that fucker was with her.

  
Just like that, the mission he had been so ready and more importantly, so fucking eager to accomplish, was forgotten - he couldn't do it, not now. Magneto wouldn't be angry, he'd understand - he always understood, but afterwards Pyro would loathe himself for it, for having such weakness... for showing it. The others would never let him hear the end of it if they found out the reason all those people had stayed alive was a girl. One girl.

  
It was all her fucking fault, honestly.

  
He remembered how she had once stood in the hallway near the dorms, staring at him with cold eyes full of anger after he had yet again fought with Drake. He didn't remember what the fight with the fucker had been about, he just remembered her. She had been silent at first, just glared at him with trembling lips, trying to hold it in... but after awhile, she had finally snapped at him, called him an asshole and told him that everything that was wrong in her life was because of him, because he couldn't let Bobby be - couldn't let her be.

  
Because he was one cocky son of a bitch, she had screamed, who thought too highly of himself, but who had no one in his life to love and return the said feeling and so he needed to make everyone else around him feel as miserable as he felt. You're nothing but a pile of shit and everyone knows it... and you hate it, John, hate the fact they all know.

  
At that moment she had truly believed so, which amused him. How could she ever be so wrong? He had laughed in her face, just laughed and called her pathetic, among other things – all that crap about love and emotions she had spat out of her mouth thinking she had finally hit a nerve, didn't shut him up. It was the last thing he wanted for his life, didn't she understand that? In the end none of it mattered.

  
You always die alone.

  
Some day she'd understand it and he wanted to be there to see her face when it happened. There would come a day when she'd wake up from this ridiculous dream world of hers and she'd see her true potential, not only as a girl, but as a mutant too. Don't ruin it now, don't let them take it away from you. And so, instead of doing what he had been told to, he simply observed the girl trying to stay behind the protective mass of people, hidden from her eyes and figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do next.

  
Then, out of the blue, he saw something fly – was that a fucking stone, he wasn't sure and he really didn't have time to react, either - towards her and hit her arm. Painfully, he realised as she winced taking a few steps back, shielding her body with her arms... he waited, but nothing happened. Other than that, she was completely ignoring the fact some mutant-fearing cuntface had just thrown something at her. The older man next to her, with whom she had exchanged a couple of words sometime during the long wait, was now yelling at someone while pushing her closer to the other mutants in a somewhat fatherly manner.

  
For that alone, Pyro almost stopped hating him.

  
Hell, things would never change, would they? Not with Rogue, not with the stupid little mutant girl who didn't know shit about the real world, but always kept putting herself in harm's way without better knowledge. Not with the girl who obviously thought she could buy his love like this, Bobby's love. The only thing she seemed to care about. The guy wasn't even worth her time for fuck's sake! Not worth this, not this kind of humilation... But of course, she being the naive little thing she was, she didn't care about that. She just wanted to be able to touch him, really touch him, to feel his skin against hers as if that was the only true thing that mattered in life and death. It wasn't, but she didn't know that, she hadn't learnt all the valuable lessons yet.

  
But she'd learn. He'd teach her, if no one else would. I swear I will, really.

  
He hated the fact he knew it was all for Bobby – that he didn't even have to spend a single second to figure out why she was there. He hated the fact she loved him that much.

  
But what he actually hated the most, was how the stupid girl made a fool out of herself without even knowing it. She honestly seemed to believe it could work; that she could make that asshole hers like this, just hers. Probably thought he would appreciate it to the point of being humbly touched, and then, in her fucked up dreams, then he'd kneel down on one knee with tears in his eyes, holding red roses, and ask her to marry him like life had been a fucking fairytale. Yeah, the little wench was ready to kill an essential part of herself, abandon her own heritage, that which defined her, made her special and for what? For a good fuck? Bitch! You will never learn on your own, Marie, you'll never see he's not worth the trouble, 'cause you're too fucking scared to face the world alone, away from him, and find out.

  
He clenched his fists against each other, nails painfully digging into flesh and almost drawing blood, but he didn't feel the pain. He couldn't. Not right now. Later. And when he'd feel it... someone would have hell to pay. You'll pay, you will.

  
Pyro wanted, not only to beat the living shit out of Bobby dearest for being the kind of pussy he was (no doubt he had done something to cause this, there was no other reason she'd been there with that look in her eyes), but to call out her name, aloud. Scream from the top of his lungs... say something, it didn't matter, whatever, anything, say it! _Anything_ to catch her attention. He wanted her to know he was there, that she had been caught redhanded and that she should've been nothing but damn ashamed for ever thinking she could go and betray her kind like this.

  
You can't save the humans, we're the future, when are you gonna realise that, you stupid little thing? But even then, even when she had been fighting on the opposite side, intensly defending her own beliefs... in some twisted way even he couldn't understand, he had actually been proud of her then. She had fought for what she thought was right and that had made her strong, capable. Worthy.

  
And now she was about to lose it, the only thing that made her strong; different from those fuckers. She still had time to snap out of it and change her mind, he noted and it cheered him up a bit. Just do it. She could still back away if she wanted to. Gods, he wished she would – do it, change your mind, get the fuck away from here, you fucking idiot - because if she didn't... she'd regret it.

  
He would make her regret it, he decided simply. And afterwards, she would feel empty. Not because of what he'd do to her, but because of what she'd done. She'd feel pain. You should too, if you go through with it. You'll deserve it. She would grow old and regret the fact she got rid of her gift for a boy who didn't even belong to her, wasn't her soulmate. Pyro knew Bobby wasn't. He just knew. Sometimes all you had to do was look at a couple and you'd know whether or not they'd have a happily ever after. These two, they didn't, not together.

  
God, Rogue was fire, couldn't Drake feel it every time he actually did bring himself to touch her quickly, couldn't he see it in her eyes? How fucking blind was he? In her true form, behind that fucking shell, she was raw and sensual, she was powerful. It was his fault – fuck Drake and his fucking ice – that she had been turned into something else, something plastic. She looked like a freakin' mouse now, scared, defeated, worried.

  
Unsure.

  
So stop her then, don't fucking let her do it, stop her, asshole! He was already about to move, when his brain suddenly did seem to get a hold of his body. No, no, he shook his head, ordering himself to stay still, trying to silence that annoying voice echoing inside his head, which kept saying she'd thank him for it. He couldn't. You can't. You can't interfere, just stay the hell away.. It was her decision, only hers and he understood. You gotta make this choice, love, but you better make the right one... because... because it was what would happen afterwards that rested upon his shoulders, that was why.

  
Or maybe, he mused with a malicious smirk returning his face, he should've wished for her to make the wrong decision, after all. Chances were he would have a much, much more entertaining couple of days than he had anticipated if that was to happen...

  
 ****

\----

  
Two hours - two long hours that she had spent doing nothing but walking aimlessly around the city with no place to go. She wasn't ready to return to the school and face the others, at least not yet. So she kept walking, randomly turning from one street to another. God, how was she going to tell them what she had done? Would they understand? Could they? They didn't know how it felt... you have no clue how hard it has been for me! How hard it had been just to be her!

  
Yes, it had been two hours since she had taken the Cure, felt it ravish her body and steal something, something that was hers alone. It had been painful, not only physically as the fluid had rushed through her veins altering everything it touched, but also mentally. Actually, when she thought of it, that was what had hurt more - the emotions. Guilt, regret... and she didn't understand why; why did she feel those things? This was the only thing she had wanted ever since her turning, right? Just this.

  
But even so, the voice didn't leave her alone.

  
Was it really what she had wanted? Or was it what someone else had wanted, even though they'd never say it?

  
No, you did this for yourself.

  
Then why did she still feel morose? She had _abandoned_ them, her friends and the mutants that had taken care of her and been the only ones to accept her... for him? No matter how she tried telling herself that was not what she had done - I did not abandon them, I didn't -, the feeling of guilt still squeezed its fist around her heart; squeezed and squeezed.

  
In the end the simple truth was that they were somewhere out there, fighting and well, where the hell was she?

  
Not with them.

  
And that, she realised, was the only thing that mattered right now. What hurt the most. Mutant or no mutant powers, she should've been there by their side. Then why wasn't she? Why the fuck was she here, alone?

  
The hell she knew. Either way, she reflected there was nothing much she could do now anyway. Pray, perhaps, pray that everyone returned home safe and sound, but that was it. God, no... her body halted as if she had just hit a brickwall as the thought tickling the back of her mind finally fully reached her consciousness. Was that the only thing she could do for her friends for the rest of her days? Pray?

  
Fuck!

  
Just...

  
"Fuck!" She spat, angry at herself and not caring if anyone heard - the streets were pretty much empty of people anyway, too much going on somewhere else. People and their over curious minds and fucked up obsessions.

  
"Poor Marie," a thick voice pestered out of nowhere, startling the girl to near the border of a heartattack, "already regretting?"

  
She didn't have to turn to know who it was that had spoken the words - she had never been able to forget that ardent and spiteful voice - but she spun around anyway. Out of pure defiance, of course, since there was no way in hell she would let him get the upper hand by letting her concern shine through. It was always a game of power with him, she knew that all too well, but for the first time ever, she had nothing with what to play it. Trying to shelter her uneasiness - what, was that a twinge of fear tugging at her insides - and putting on a cold smile meant to mask her emotions, she turned to look at the boy behind her.

  
How the fuck did he know what she had done anyway?

  
"No, John, I don't. Why would I?"

  
Ah, of course. He had been wondering about that a little while ago, actually. Earlier, when he had been so close on her heels that if she had turned around and really paid attention to her surroundings instead of those nonchalant glances she had been throwing around, she would've seen him. He had asked himself if that was yet another thing that would never change.

  
John, always John.

  
At least something was different, because unlike usually, this time the fact she still insisted on calling him that only amused him. This time she said it to break his calm, contemning composure. She had always been different from others like that, calling people by their given names. Although, naturally with him she had only done it to annoy the fuck out of him. She didn't really expect others to call her Rogue, either, but they normally did. Well, all but him.

  
She had always been Rogue, even to him, but calling her that only made it more real. It made her stronger.

  
They all felt the same though - _Mariei_ didn't fit this now powerful mutant girl anymore than John fit him nowadays. There was no John anymore... but then, you aren't Rogue anymore, are you? No, she wasn't...

  
She tried to be, so hard. Good, he was glad. It had been too long since she had shown any true signs of fire and he had missed it - this, the spark she didn't even know existed somewhere beneath the fear. Oh she was scared, he could almost smell it, but she had her dignity. She'd never let him know, not willingly.

  
"Then why use such bad words?" He asked simply, arms folded and with a smug smile still decorating his beautiful face. She had never grasped it, never fully understood how someone so irritating, so ruthless, could look so fucking beautiful through it all. Wasn't he supposed to change somewhere along the way, morph into something as ugly and horrifying as he was inside? But he was still as beautiful as he had been then. Especially now that he had gone and dyed his hair a lighter shade, she thought, and by the looks of it, this was a boy who could carry his leather... Fine, so what, she could admit it; he looked gorgeous. Big deal. As if that meant anything.

  
It didn't!

  
"I've got sand in my shoe," she managed to answer after a moment, hoping her thoughts had stayed private, "it hurts." How the hell had she been able to sound so biting, she didn't know, and didn't really care either. The most important thing was that she had. There, she could feel a random piece of her self-confidence returning slowly. Thank God.

  
Pyro's smile deepened as he watched her expression change slightly - he was actually a little impressed by the tone she had used on him. Mmm, poison. Man, she had actually sounded pretty damn hot there.

  
Rogue knew they had been friends once or at least tried to be before things got ugly between them, but still, this was bizarre. This wasn't how it was meant to go - he standing there, smiling - no, that wasn't a smile, it was a smirk - at her like that.

  
Boy... did she know that smirk or what? The hair on the back of her neck stood up against her will - he was plotting something and she wasn't so sure she wanted to find out what. Rogue had seen him use it on their fellow students one too many times. Female students, be it said, and it never - ever - promised anything good. It was one of those things that would never change when it came to him, she supposed.

  
"Shouldn't you be out there, fighting a war?" She asked suddenly, simply wanting to direct his attention elsewhere. Give him something else to think about, something else to cling onto. Maybe if she started talking about the war, he'd became frustrated and slip something she could use against him. That, or then he'd throw a tantrum like the selfish kid he was and break her skull. Well, one way or another, right now she had to take her chances.

  
But Pyro, being his irritating self as always, wasn't taking the bait that easily, no, no. With one eyebrow raised into a question, he tilted his head and asked the one thing she didn't want to hear: "Shouldn't you?"

  
There it was, something squeezing her insides again. Gods, sometimes she hated him so much and didn't even know why but every encounter like this one reminded her efficiently. So typical of you, so fucking typical of you to hit where it hurts the most.

  
"No," she forced the word out with a calm, almost indifferent voice, as if the subject held no personal meaning to her, "Not anymore."

  
He snorted. "You think just 'cause you turned your back to our kind, you don't have to fight anymore?"

  
It hurt. It hurt to hear the same thing she had been thinking for the past few hours said out loud with a tone like that, with that kind of contempt. He was disgusted, not that he had any right to be, but he was and even though she didn't particularly like it, she understood.

  
What she couldn't understand, though, was why the hell he sounded so... so overly disappointed?

  
It confused her, made her mind pause and so, she spoke out the first defense she could think of in that sluggish state of mind.

  
"I-I can't-"

  
"That's bull," he cut off her explanation, trying to hide his genuine irritation and knowing exactly what she was going to say. He knew her, he knew the way her mind worked, the way she saw things... her soul. Why the fuck didn't she see that? Didn't feel it like he did?

  
"I don't..." That was when she finally apprehended the true meaning of the words she was about to say, understood what it all meant. She had no way to defend herself... no longer did she have the upper-hand and they were both aware of it.

  
"What, have your powers?" He galled, taking pleasure out of the way her facial expression slowly faltered into insecure, "Took you this long to realise where you are.. with whom you are?"

  
She was starting to panic inside, but even in the middle of such a state, her only working thought was to keep it hidden from him. Animals always smell the fear, Rogue. Do not let him see... In spite of herself, she couldn't stop her body from trembling ever so slightly. To keep her composure, she lifted her chin and raised her arms to her chest, folding them neatly. Just breathe in and out, normally. She could do this. She had handled him before, there was no reason she couldn't do it again... well, no, there was a reason, but not thinking about it made the situation seem a little bit easier.

  
Like she had a chance.

  
All of it was in vain, of course. Pyro could've had his eyes closed and still, so easily, he would've known what she was thinking, feel the air tremble every time she did. She could hide so much from him if she tried, so much, but this.

  
"I could kill you," he pointed out joyfully, smiling brightly as if it had been christmas - well, at least a stranger would've thought so when seeing him, but she could clearly see the bitterness behind his sparkling eyes, hear it in his smooth voice. From where did it derive, that bitterness she had come to known as a cardinal feature of his?

  
"Yes," she admitted, eyes staring straight into his, secretly wishing the John she had once known and cared about, was still somewhere in there, "you could."

  
He laughed, pleased by the fact she still had it in her, the fire, to put up a decent fight even when it was clear she wouldn't be able to win with him, not this time. Oh yeah, no doubt she'd fight him with all her might, teeth and nails... at least he hoped she would. For one, it would make things more interesting... and well, at least the others wouldn't have a reason to question him about the failed mission. They wouldn't bother to think he let those people live because he felt something... something he shouldn't have felt for a girl on the opposing team, for her.

  
He'd show them all, he'd show them what they had, he and Rogue, he'd show it wasn't anything beautiful. Not through her eyes, anyway.

  
"Well, anyway," he continued in with a different tone in his voice, which made her frown (why the fuck did he sound like they'd been friends for years, huh?), "I'm not planning to. But you are coming with me."

  
The relief she had almost let take over after hearing the change in his voice, was gone with that simple claim, with those simple words.

  
"The hell I am," she spat matter-of-factly, already about to take a step back without realising it, when her unconscious movement was suddenly interrupted. He had stepped closer and grabbed her forcefully, wrapping his warm fingers around her forearm to keep her still. And to show her who was in charge, naturally.

  
"You don't really have a say in this, Marie," he spoke, leaning closer, bending close enough, down enough, to speak into her ear. She shivered, drawing in a sharp mouthful of air as his warm breath stroked the side of her face.

  
"You're coming with me and that's that... I mean..." He paused there and chuckled, disdainfully, just to tantalize her one step further if possible... not that it was really needed anymore.

  
"Do you really think _they_ will take you back now, huh? No, you're nothing to them now."

  
How, _how_ did he always know exactly what to say, how to cut just a little bit deeper? She wanted to speak, tell him he was wrong. Mistaken. That they'd never slam the door shut in her face, not when she needed their support the most. They care about me, they care about me... but not a word met the air. Instead, she kept opening and closing her mouth in shock, like a fish out of water, gulping. Just trying to breathe. In and out... come on, breathe.

  
"Yeah," Pyro prompted, pulling her to him and placing a firm, but caressing hand on her back without so much as a word of resistance coming from her end, "thought so, too. Well, I can't leave you here alone, now can I?"

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And the only thing he could think about after that, until Rogue broke the silence by her next move, was that what the little mutant girl needed, wasn’t Bobby and his ice, not by far._

She felt numb, cold.

  
Somehow empty.

  
Whereas she should’ve been screaming from the top of her lungs she was… silent.

  
Lifeless.

  
Was she in shock, maybe?

  
Yeah, it had to be that, the only reason good enough to answer his unspoken question. Why else would she have let him drag her down the street like she was some soulless puppet, a doll to be dressed up and played with?

  
Being what he was, thinking about playing made his smile grow vicious, but flirtatious. Indeed. There’d be some games, hell yeah, lots and lots of those and not the flat, boring ones that you placed on a coffee table and played with a damned dice that always had to find its way under the ugly flower patterned sofa. He’d never been one to enjoy such platonic games, anyway.

  
(Although, to be exact and truthful, just the way he _alway_ s was, this game could’ve been placed and played on a table, too, right?)

  
Oh! If someone had seen his smirk right now, they would’ve said it was like a little boy’s who’d been promised candy if he behaved. In a way, it was pretty close… he had just been thinking how there would probably be some dressing up, too, if he had his way…

  
It was weird, though, even from his point of view. He hated it when she fought him, refused to acknowledge what he already knew… no, she just had to keep doing it, refusing to admit the obvious chemistry he knew damn well existed between the two of them, the kind she’d never share with that fucking iceman of hers. He didn’t have what it took. Passion needed fire, not ice.

  
But still, at the same time, he hated having this inanimate puppet lying in his hands. This was not the Rogue he wanted to see and feel, feel her burn him, from inside out. That Rogue didn’t take shit from anyone, least of all from him, nor did she act like this… give up that fucking easy. Where was the challenge in that, huh?

  
So it had to be the shock causing this. Shock and confusion together, they were making her unable to function the way she normally would’ve if things had been different. Normal. In her pretty little head, she was probably trying to make sense of the situation and he liked to assume she was failing miserably. It wasn't like it made sense to him either, so naturally, she’d fail, too.

  
All he knew for sure was that it was her fault. Somehow.

  
He didn't care how hard his fingers dug into her forearm through the soft fabric of her jacket as he tugged her forward. Knowing this, she didn't even bother letting out a noise of any kind to let it be known she was actually hurting... just like she knew it wouldn’t have had any effect on him even if she had. He didn’t have the energy to care whether he was walking too fast for her or not, either, which didn't surprise her one bit. He had never cared about such things in his life and well, it wasn't likely for him to start any day soon.

  
So what if she stumbled every other second, almost falling on her face against the dirty cement? So what if her safety hung on his shoulders now, huh? Of course he didn't care, why would he have? Besides, if anything, he enjoyed himself; being the only one, the only thing there able to put an end to it and keep her standing… if he wished so, that was.

  
The only thing there to keep her from falling.

  
To Pyro, it was all poetic. Ironic, but poetic all the same.

  
He could've easily loosened his grip and let her go tumbling on to the ground, simply to show her that right now she truly was under his mercy and that no matter what she thought, she needed his protection or she'd slip and crumble.

  
I could let you fall, yes, but I'm not going to. He never would.

  
I could hurt you a little… a lot, honestly, but I’d never let you fall.

  
She had to realize it sooner or later. He preferred sooner, but whatever hit her fancy. He just needed her to see it, eventually, and it didn’t really matter when. Only needed her to see and accept it some time in the future.

  
If Rogue had been paying attention, she would’ve noticed the slight change of pace in his steps – and therefore in hers, but she didn’t. He slowed down, not much, but enough for one to sense something wasn’t the same anymore, but she was too caught up with her own plotting to give a damn. Which, if she had taken time to think about it further, would’ve seemed weird even to her – how could she have trusted him so blindly, letting him guide her forward?

  
Pyro, however, did spot it and immediately felt his hopes raising their chuckling heads from behind the gravestones.

  
Right… suddenly the level of his enjoyment came down a level or two.

  
So, what now, smart-ass?

  
He had been thinking about a table, but whose table?

  
Where the hell was he supposed to take her now that he basically had her on a short, tight and very leathery leash? After catching a butterfly such as this one, there was no way in hell anyone would let such beauty go back into the wild, unknown to humankind.

  
Oh, Jesus, that sounded wrong. Why? Oh, right, _right_ , he’d never given a flying fuck about humankind. Like ever.

  
Well, just the same, as long as he got his point across the nations, all was good.

  
Fuck. A frustrated look twisted his face for a passing moment, made him want to let out a deep, growling sigh, but fearing Rogue would catch on to things if he did, he simply forced his eyes to stare into the street in front of them. He swallowed the sigh, with a curse already on his lips. Fine, admittedly, he didn't always think his plans through that carefully and every once in a while he found himself doing exactly what he was doing now; literally cursing his temper for leading him into complicated situations that always promised trouble.

  
Well, to his defense, he had always believed in the old saying about spontaneity being the great road to brilliance. Or was it brilliant things? No, wait, was that even truly an old saying or just something he had come up with?

  
Fuck that.

  
What did it matter? The point was that spontaneity had brought a great deal of trouble with it… which, Pyro chuckled, should’ve been a good thing like it usually was. Well, he _did_ love trouble.

  
And Marie? Yep, he mused with a dark smirk, she was definitely trouble. He could just tell.

  
Hell, that explained why it was her fault, did it not?

He glanced over his shoulder with face on basic readings again, to take yet another look at his little companion without having to fear her grasping his thoughts. Turned out he didn’t have to worry about that one, as she simply stared down at the cement plates without taking her eyes off of them for a second, mind obviously occupied with some thoughts he imagined involving that fucking Drake.

  
Pyro could see, inside his head, a thousand little moving images of Bobby and Rogue, lying in bed, kissing, touching, naked skin against sweaty flesh… so how does it feel, Marie, how does it feel to have something so fucking cold? Something so cold when you could’ve so very easily gotten something different… something powerful, raw, sensual. Like you.

  
And the only thing he could think about after that, until Rogue broke the silence by her next move, was that what the little mutant girl needed, wasn’t Bobby and his ice, not by far.

  
Because true passion, as established, it needed fire.

 **\---**

It had been over 20 minutes or so that they had spent walking in the nearly empty street (if you didn’t count the occasional stray cats that every other second followed them for a few minutes in hopes of getting some food), both locked into the deep tunnels of their darkened minds and not bothering to share.

  
Rogue hadn't said a single word yet, though she had been highly tempted to start screaming and struggling. The only reason she didn’t even want to try and see what would happen if she did, was that she knew this mutant well enough to realize she’d endanger lives by doing so. He’d hurt anyone, be it child or adult that dared to come to her aid…not that there'd been anyone out there to actually to perform the said act, so, whatever.

  
The next best thing she could come up with was to insult him, hurt him, but she thought better of it. As if that had actually helped her somehow, you know. Not really.

  
Besides the fact she had nothing else to say - there was nothing that would make Pyro magically vanish - she also figured the pyromaniac would assume she was just suffering from some sort of initial shock or fear that prevented her from trying anything. While she absolutely hated the idea of letting him live believing she was _afraid_ of him (God, she wanted to puke just thinking about it, or claw his eyes out, one of the two), she reasoned it was her best way out of it, away from him. If he thought she was scared, too damn scared to do anything at all, much less put up a fight; then he surely didn’t expect her to tempt an escape, either.

  
But an escape it was that she attempted.

  
Sharpening her _human_ (why did the word bite her tongue like that, hurting, drawing blood?) senses, she came to the conclusion Pyro's mind was nowhere near earth. He was trying to shield it from her, obviously, but the voice inside her ear, echoing, echoing, echoing, it told her he was weak now.

  
Rogue, she remembered how she had used to be so good when it came to reading his moods, knowing and recognizing them by simply standing next to him. Even with closed eyes, she could feel his mood. It was the way the air vibrated, the way his body radiated, sending waves that only her sensors could detect. Above anything, she hated admitting it, that there was this weird, unbreakable connection there…a connection that she was ashamed of. She couldn’t do anything about it , but given the chance she would’ve gladly jumped at any opportunity to get rid of it.

  
Bobby had always joked about it, how she could just by glancing in his direction once or twice say exactly what was going through his head. Pyro, known more officially as John at the time, never admitted she had “guessed” right, but dismissed the whole conversation with a wave of his hand if anyone ever came to inquire his mood. Sometimes Bobby got curious though and at first Rogue had pretended she had no idea what he was talking about. That they were lucky guesses. After awhile she had decided to change the story and after that her explanation was that it was all due to that one time she had accidentally touched him during class.

  
That, being good at reading his moods, though, was before the sarcastic boy had learnt to build even stronger walls around his insides and she had been coldly left outside. Still, there were some things even he couldn’t keep locked no matter how he tried, no matter how much time had gone by since that essential touch. Maybe, because it was so much more than just physical…

  
The truth was the link had always been there even before their skins had met ever so briefly, but at the time, it had been like a dormant feature in her DNA, sleeping in its hideaway and waiting for the prince charming to kiss it awake. That touch had been the kiss, the needed catalyst that eventually sparked the connection to its full intensity.

  
Having the infamous John Allerdyce inside her head for a whole day had been a somewhat enlightening experience, but not the kind she’d wanted to repeat any time soon. All the pain and anger, all that consuming hatred, which had made her especially bitchy and mean for the rest of the day, it had been too much for her to handle… too much. Then, when she had been forced to do it again to save the policemen stupid enough to come too close in Boston, it had taken even longer to rid his essence from her mind, from her dreams. Sometimes she could still _feel_ him there, just like she could feel Wolverine and Bobby, only his voice was always the smoothest, always the strongest.

  
Bobby… Rogue, she loved Bobby; all she wanted was a connection, this strong mental link with _him_ , not with a lunatic killer, who couldn’t tell right from wrong. That was the only thing she remembered wanting, ever, just him. That was what had driven her to take the Cure. It was ironic how the most important decision of her life had been done in order for her to come closer to Bobby and in the end it could be their end. If Pyro was right… no, he’s not right. They will understand!

  
And with all this, with all the racing thoughts spinning around in her head, arousing a headache that could’ve been described more like as a volcano erupting, she decided it was time to get away. Get away from him, from this situation, and go back to the people with whom she belonged.

  
Back to Bobby.

  
First, trying to keep their current pace not to alert him in anyway, she snatched her arm free from the firm hold and without staying to watch how he turned around, amazed, she ran. By doing this, she failed to see how his expression changed from amazed into expectant and then, frustrated.

 **\---**

If there was anything Pyro hated, it was unexpected surprises. It was one thing to face an expected surprise because then at least, you had seen it coming. Sort of.

  
He'd not seen this one coming, which made it a fucking unexpected surprise. Why hadn't he, seriously?

  
Pyro _had_ assumed she’d fight… really, he wanted her to fight, yeah, but he had never, not once, thought about having to run after the bitch.

  
He sighed, before drawing in a deep breath, trying not to kick the wall next to him. Just breathe and calm down.

  
God, she was still running. That was just evil.

  
Fuck. He hated running, damnit! But nevertheless he started to run, faster, faster than ever before in his life, calling after her, demanding her to come back to him or she'd suffer the consequences. And it's not gonna be pretty, Marie, it's gonna make you cry and you'll beg, you'll beg for me to stop and you know what I'll say? Wanna know what I'll say, huh?

  
Yeah. He hated running, but at least, for the first time he saw something worth the nuisance.

  
When she'd ask why, he'd say...

  
I'll say, you brought it on yourself, _Marie._


	3. Chapter 3

She didn’t look back.

  
She ran onward, lungs burning with the lack of air, not caring about the pain stinging somewhere along her side. She had lost one of her shoes while running, she wasn’t sure when, but even the scorching pain in her bare foot didn’t stop the rapid movement. Nothing could. It was pure adrenaline that pushed her forward now, made her feet take one step after another and ignore all the glass, all the dirt, she ran over.

  
Rogue wasn’t afraid. She ran, knowing – no, feeling that he was following her, heard him getting closer, but yet she wasn’t scared. He’d probably catch her anyway, possibly even hurt her if she’d read the message in his eyes right, she knew all this, but instead of giving up, hiding or even asking for help, she simply kept going.

  
It was all a big damn game to him; nowadays everything was. It was what made him _him_ , the little trait that made John turn into Pyro.

  
Maybe he’d never been truly John, she realized, maybe his true character had always been named Pyro, but the outside world hadn’t been able to deal with that. Chances were he had been a darling 5-year-old boy who had wanted nothing more then to belong, to be loved for who he was. She couldn’t tell for sure. He never spoke of his past and when she’d touched him, there’d been too little time and too many layers to peel off in order to reach the ardent core.

  
And if she were true to herself, like she wanted to be, because that was how she had been brought up, she had to admit that it had never even occurred to her to try and understand him. The people in her head, they never left her, she always kept a piece of them, but when his essence had been the strongest for that short period of time, she had just wanted it to end.

  
But now, thinking back, Rogue could actually relate – it was a realization she didn’t particularly like, but couldn’t hide either. She if anyone knew how pressuring people could be and so, she simply figured the outside world and their _fucking_ fears, was what had made Pyro like this…twisted. It probably wasn’t the ultimate word she was looking for, but for now, it was the only one that popped into her head. Maybe there was no word for what he had become, because he was something completely different, something unique. If Wolverine hadn’t been there to bring her back to the school – and if Magneto hadn’t tried to kill her, of course - who knows, maybe she would’ve been just like him.

  
So no, she wasn’t afraid, but angry and above all, determined. She just wanted to show him that; let him know he had no power over her, not in the way he wanted to. I’m not afraid of you, Pyro; I never will be, never again.

  
The pain was starting to be too much, taking her breathing from minimal to zero. She had to stop, now, and take a deep breath before she’d collapse out of pure exhaustion. Find a place, any place, her mind screamed at her, just go and hide right now, you stupid little girl!

  
He was still following her when she saw an old, massive looking building on the other side of the street. The whole place looked to be a rundown hotel under construction, at least the sign above the door said “hotel” with letters that had used to be bright neon. There was another, smaller sign below it, but she didn’t give it another thought, only stormed across the street, nearly flew up the stone stairs leading to the wooden door, and slammed against it with all her might.

  
With a second slam and inconceivable ache unnerving her shoulder (not to mention his amused laugh reaching her ears signaling he was getting closer and closer, although he was walking now), the door gave in with a creak. Rogue wailed as she flopped down, trying to soften the fall with her hands. Yet another pair of cuts appeared on her body, bleeding, but she ignored the wounds, jumping up as fast she could. She only had a second or two to take in the surroundings, smell the mold and try and decide where to go next.

  
Upstairs!

  
She ran through the hall avoiding the dusty construction frames lying all over the place, and just when she reached the stairs, hand already on the rail, the door flared up into flames and fell to the floor. She had expected it, but still it managed to shake her. Involuntarily, she paused biting her bottom lip nervously, eyes wide with surprise and just stared at the fitted-carpet covering the stairs as if it had been the most fascinating sight she’d seen.

  
Everything after that was hazy, unreal somehow.

  
To her it seemed like a passing second when he was already there, behind her, too close… but yet it never crossed her panicking mind to start running again. She was still panting from the run before, which amused him highly, but the closer he got, the stronger the sound of his irrational breathing came, the slower her own breathing turned. When he finally reached her it seemed she’d stopped breathing all together.

  
Pyro stood there for a moment without saying anything, mainly to catch his breath again. Plus, he was pretty sure it would add its own taste to the current state of her mind, which he hoped to be damn nervous. She was standing on the 5th step, one foot already on the next one and her left hand on the railing, fingers wrapped around it so firmly that he thought they just might leave eternal marks on the wood.

  
Efficiently closing the little space between them, he stepped up and stopped on the 4th step contemplating on what to do next. He wanted to punish her for trying to run away, but praise her for fighting. He wanted to fuck her hard, right there, on the stairs, to show her how it was supposed to be done; to hurt Bobby. He wanted to fucking videotape it all and send it to the _fucking_ popsicle in a pink gift wrap to show him how it was done.

  
And well, to make sure he’d never take her back.

  
 _Love, John Allerdyce._

  
He closed his eyes smirking deviously and with a cocked head, leaned towards her and breathed in the bewitching scent that had never stopped haunting him. She gasped quietly when his hands suddenly wrapped around her body and pulled her against him, forcing the girl to lower both of her feet to the same stair to keep her balance.

  
Rogue grabbed his fingers that were locked around his own arms, trying to fiercely pry them open. She didn’t wriggle against him, though, for she had seen enough r-rated movies to know what would happen then.

Then, unexpectedly, Pyro changed his position again, but only with his fingers – before she could resist, they had already snatched her attacking hands into his grip.

  
”You know,” he started against her back, purring, “We really don’t need these anymore.”

  
They didn’t need what? At first she didn’t get what he meant, but when he slowly started to remove her long gloves the reality came crashing down on her.

  
She had no powers. There was nothing to keep him from…

  
He knew for sure that she had _finally_ caught up with the plot, when her cool composure came crumbling down. She started panting again, horrified, not wanting to experience whatever it was that he had planned for her.

  
Rogue wanted to wriggle free, she wanted to struggle.

  
But…

  
But… oh God…

  
**\----**

  
He had removed her gloves. Completely. Pulled them off, tossed them away over his shoulder and captured her fingers with his own receiving a muffled moan, which he assumed, had been intended to be a protest. Hadn’t quite come out as one, now had it? He took his time, doing nothing but stroking her fingers and playing with them in his hands, drawing pictures against the pale, soft skin…. that was it, all he was doing, and still, every moan she let out hit his groin just the same as if it had been her hands touching him, her mouth around him.

  
Teasing him…

  
His skin was so warm. So alive.

  
She couldn’t stop the moans, couldn’t keep her body from slightly leaning closer to him. It had been so long since she’d been touched and fuck, you could really tell. Felt amazingly satisfying to find out, one by one, all the little mistakes Bobby had made when it came to this marvelous creature he was holding close. Seemed Drake still hadn’t started fulfilling his duties in the touching department, which made him wonder if it meant that she was…

  
Okay. It was getting even better.

  
He had intended to make her scream his name and beg. He still did, but this time, with a slightly different approach.

  
Pyro could hear her whine in protest when he let go of her hands, but she didn’t have to go without skin contact for long, because the next thing she knew she was face to face with a pair of blue eyes. He had turned her around and placed his hands on her hips, carefully tugging her shirt from the waistband of her trousers and she had no choice but to place her own hands on his shoulders. She justified it by thinking – lying - it was the only way to ensure her balance. They didn’t belong there… how was it then that they still fit there, so beautifully, so perfectly?

  
It amazed her, he amazed her. Not the way he was looking straight into her eyes in a manner that made it impossible for her to turn her gaze, but the way he was touching her… his fingers were now on her sides, slowly - as if waiting for refusal - traveling up and down, tickling and she… she laughed.

  
Hearing her laugh, for him, caused an electric surge through his veins, which was something he had not expected to happen. She had never laughed like that, not for him, but for Bobby. She’d laughed at him, though, countless of times and always, always mocking.

  
Fuck. Why did he feel so pleased by the fact she hadn’t turned him down?

  
It was wrong, all wrong. She was supposed to fight and he was supposed to overpower her, show the girl her place. Although, admittedly, taking her like this, willingly, would certainly be the best kind of weapon towards Bobby (Hey, Ice, I fucked your girl!) the next time the fucker decided to come and screw up his plans.

  
And it means you want me, the voice said, you fucking want me.

  
That was something he’d never forget.

  
Time after time you told me I was fucking insane. That one time near the dorms, remember, Marie? You said I’m one cocky son of a bitch, who thinks too highly of himself, who has no one in his life to love and return that love. You're nothing but a pile of shit and everyone knows it, that’s what you said to me, and you hate it, _John,_ hate the fact they all know.

  
No, what he hated was the fucking fact she refused to accept him for who and what he was. John, always John for fuck’s sake!

  
He had to say something. Anything to break the spell she had put on him, because this was not how it was allowed to go, it couldn’t end like that. All those things you said to me, I’ll prove you wrong, I’ll show you what I truly am.

  
“I always knew Ice don’t know how to handle your sex drive, but this is just pathetic, you know?”

  
The words said with that malicious, mocking tone were like a fucking slap across her face, something that woke her up from the dangerous trance. Like a knife in the heart. You just had to do it, you fuck. You just had to fucking do it; you couldn’t let it go… Immediately she drew her hands away, trying to pull back. Anticipating her next move, however, Pyro had grabbed her hips in a manner that left her very little room for another escape attempt. When she tried to push him away, he grabbed her fists, moving them to lie against his chest.

  
She could feel his heartbeat, fast and steady beneath her touch. Strong.

  
For crying out loud, what had she been thinking? Had she really been… giving herself to him? Oh, God, no. Bobby…

  
You love Bobby, remember? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? It’s him, he’s doing something to you.

  
But she knew the truth. For a moment there, he _had_ been doing something. He had been doing the one thing she desperately needed but couldn’t have. Now Rogue had no witty response to add to the conversation, nothing to say. Whatever she’d say now, he could twist around. You fucked up, Rogue, you fucked up.

  
“I mean seriously,” he continued as she looked away, ashamed of how she’d let things progress, “if you’d just let me know when I was still around, I could’ve fixed this little problem pro bono.”

  
She was growing angry, he just knew it. Such an intoxicating moment it was, he could almost feel himself getting high. He’d always known there was something about her, something captivating, but never had he thought that she could be like a drug. Better, honestly and he hadn’t even reached the best part yet!

  
He didn’t want to rush it, didn’t want to lose a single moment and so he stood there looking at her, just watched how she bit her lip trying to keep the angry tears in. Watched how her teeth twisted the full, red lip so hard he expected to see blood any minute thinking, wondering, what that tongue, that blood, would taste like.

  
“Or maybe it’s been Wolvie scratching the itch all along?” he laughed sourly, but the laughter was cut short when she suddenly detonated like the time bomb she was.

  
Good.

  
“I hate you!” She screamed at him, fighting to release her captured wrists, not giving another thought to what was coming out of her mouth, “I fucking hate you so much! We tried to help you, we tried to be your friends but you’re so fucking full of yourself you didn’t see that! You were so jealous of Bobby, of Wolverine, of Cyclops, ‘cause they are so much better than you! So jealous ‘cause they have something you don’t have and you have no other way around that, no other way to get back at them but to fuck around with me! You’re the one who’s pathetic, _John,_ you are! You couldn’t even take me on when I had my powers but you; you had to wait till I’d taken the Cure!”

  
She had no time react, only to whimper. She was thrown down against the stairs with such force that all the air vanished from her lungs, leaving her breathless. The pain in her already hurt shoulder doubled and she was pretty sure she’d have a fucking huge bump on the back of head very, very soon. He was standing above her, but when she moved to get up, to possibly scream some more, she hadn’t decided yet, he came down on her, slamming her already bruised body back against the sharp edge of the stairs forcing her hands to her sides, next to her face.

  
It hurt, hurt so much that the tears ran down her face regardless, but she didn’t cry. They were silent tears cried by her body, not by her mind.

  
“I was there, Marie,” he spat, his breath touching her face, eyes pouring secrets into hers, “I watched you there, thinking you’re fucking out of your mind for doing it, for taking the Cure. I wanted to stop you, but I didn’t, cause it was your damned decision. I was supposed to kill them all, kill you and I didn’t. Why the fuck didn’t I?”

  
Why are you telling her these things? Shut up, shit, shut up! Why the hell was he pouring his soul to her? It was so easy, so very fucking easy for her to use it against him, everything he said, every spoken word and yet there he was, telling her the kind of things she was never supposed to find out. But she had to hear it, he _needed_ her to know.

  
“You wasted your gift,” Pyro hissed through gritted teeth, pressing his face even closer to hers, “and I know why.”

  
Her eyes were fixed on his as she spat back, “You know nothing.” She said it meaning every word, but there was that doubt, that grey area somewhere inside her guts that made her think that maybe… maybe he did. Maybe he did know. Maybe he was the only one that did.

  
“I don’t?” He insisted sarcastically, “Oh I think I do. You want him to fuck you.” Not trying or even wanting to control himself, his fingers dug deeper into her wrists, emitting yet another low whimper from her end. “You’re in need and that, my dear, is what this is all about,” he continued, disgusted, “You gave yourself away ‘cause that one son of a bitch is too scared to touch you.”

  
She shook her head, shook and shook, blinking the tears away. Yeah, it was obvious she wanted to disagree, but couldn’t find the words to express it.

  
He didn’t wait. Not now, not now that he knew she was breaking. “I watched them throw stuff at you,” he confessed, voice softening.

  
What the fuck is wrong with you, Pyro? Why are you exposing yourself like this?

  
… he didn’t know. He just had to.

  
“And I wanted to rip their hearts out, you hear me? Not because they were hating us, not cause of what they were, but ‘cause they were _hating_ you. Hurting you.”

  
And what was he doing, huh? “You’re hurting me, too,” she tried, but he only smirked. “Yeah, well, this time you deserve it.”

  
No, she was sure she didn’t. She’d done nothing to him, nothing to deserve this kind of treatment. He couldn’t be mad at her just because she’d taken the Cure, it couldn’t be that. There was something else behind this, something more than Bobby.

  
“Why are you doing this?”

  
There it was, the question he had been waiting to come up eventually.

  
 _And it's not gonna be pretty, Marie, it's gonna make you cry and you'll beg, you'll beg for me to stop and you know what I'll say? Wanna know what I'll say, huh?_

  
“You brought it on yourself, Marie.” And you know, just because I can. I’m strong enough and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me. Not a thing you can say to make me feel sorry for you. She could cry all she wanted to, but it wouldn’t stop him.

  
She opened her mouth to say something, but he decided to put her mouth to better use, do something better with his time than listen to her list of insults.

  
His mouth covered hers.

  
Rogue’s eyes widened and the reply on her lips died.

  
Oh my God… she couldn’t move her head, couldn’t keep him out. This wasn’t a kiss. This was something she had never experienced before. His teeth kept clashing against hers, wounded her lips and drew blood whenever she tried to close her mouth. Just like Pyro, his tongue definitely didn’t ask for permission to explore.

“The thing is, if it had been me, I would’ve fucked you, Marie. I would’ve touched you,” he whispered against her lips, kissing her again and releasing her other wrist to wipe the skunk stripe from her face as it was trying to edge itself into her mouth where there was no room for extra visitors. While doing so, he could feel something wet against his knuckles and it took a minute, before he remembered.

  
Oh, right, she’d cried.

  
Pyro didn’t want to think about it – why he suddenly felt remorse over something so simple as having made her cry – and so, he ignored the feeling and finished his speech with the line she’d always wanted to hear.

  
“I was never scared of you, _Rogue."_

  
Always wanted to hear from Bobby _fucking_ Drake.

 

 **\----**

 

  
Now she was scared, but not of him. It was those mixed up emotions she felt that scared the living shit out of her. You have to put an end to this, you have to stop him. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was Bobby’s skin against hers. That it was Bobby who made her feel wanted.

  
Then why didn’t she close her eyes?

  
 _I was never scared of you, Rogue._

  
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, “I love him… only him.”

  
Whether the trigger was the fact she said it didn’t matter – it did, he knew it – or the fact she dared to lie to him about loving Bobby – you don’t, you could never love him – the result was still the same. Before she could say another word or even see the warning in his eyes, he’d started pulling her shirt up and over her head, still holding her other wrist. When it turned out to be an impossible task to accomplish like this, you know, with Rogue fighting to keep her arms down and trying so desperately to kick him away now that she knew where he was going to take things, he finally got bored with it… she heard the distant click, which sounded very similar to the click she had once grown accustomed to, but there was something different about this.

  
But it still hurt.

  
From where had the fire appeared into his hand, she didn’t know, didn’t care, but it hurt like hell… burnt her skin.

  
He’d always thought there was something delicious about the smell of burnt flesh, probably because of his connection to the fire and she’d never understood it. Still didn’t. It made her want to throw up, empty her stomach of everything, all the way.

  
When it was too painful, when she simply couldn’t handle it anymore or keep the tears in, she pleaded for him to stop.

  
I’ll stop when you stop, his eyes said while his mouth grinned, and she did. She stopped struggling against the inevitable, after which it was remotely easier for him to remove the shirt and reveal her blue bra.

  
Blue like ice. He snorted. No fucking surprise there.

  
He’d have to get rid of that soon, but not now. Her breathing hitched as the tip of his tongue touched the part of her breast the bra didn’t cover, leaving a wet trail of saliva behind as it traveled.

  
Her body was exhausted, drained from all the fighting, but still there was something stirring there, near her pelvis. When he pushed his hips forward, making her feel, actually _feel_ what she was doing to him, her back arched. No, no! It wasn’t the kind of reaction she’d wanted to give, but…

  
Yeah. It was more than he had hoped for.

  
Without saying anything, he suddenly grabbed her forearm and pulled them both up. She was about to ask what the fuck he was doing, when she was slammed against the wall, his mouth on hers. She couldn’t stop it, her hands that were on his shoulders, pushing down the jacket he was wearing didn’t listen to her. Her leg that he’d just lifted to his hip didn’t want to go down and really, she didn’t even tell it to. Her tongue, it was singing its own song – the one where it praised his taste and wanted more.

  
She didn’t want this.

  
His jacket fell down and soon after, his shirt suffered the same fate.

  
Her body, however, did.

  
She was on fire, which, when she thought about it later, was rather ironical given the situation.

  
Rogue didn’t know when she’d started kissing back or when her mouth had actually moved to his neck. It was all happening so fast, each devouring the other. His hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same, hers were doing the same. Traveling up and down, grabbing, stroking, tickling. Finding new places, areas she’d never known existed in male anatomy. Bumps and hills.

  
“Sometimes passion just _is_ fire,” he murmured into her ear, but she didn’t understand what it meant. For a second there she was almost tempted to ask, but she figured he wouldn’t have answered anyway. Pyro liked to have his secrets, that was a known fact.

  
Then they moved again; Pyro rolled them over so that his back was now against the wall and smirked at her surprised expression. It didn’t say surprised for long, though, for she was already pulling him closer again, trying to wipe off that damned smirk. She didn’t need to be reminded of the fact she was making the biggest mistake of her life; the kind that felt and tasted so absolutely good and delicious that you couldn’t get enough of it.

  
It was just the feel of skin against skin, her mind screamed, you could have this with Bobby, too! You just need to leave first!

  
But she didn’t.

  
After a few more rounds of rolling against the wall, stumbling and tripping, they finally reached the second floor.

  
He’d thought they’d better find a room and a bed, but now that they’d reach the floor, he abandoned the idea. Rogue, she didn’t need a room and really, it would’ve taken too much time anyway. He didn’t want to walk another meter, never again.

  
He’d been right all along, hadn’t he? Such a perfect match.

  
No words were exchanged. He pushed her farther way, just enough to slip a hand between them to unzip her trousers. He pushed them down and she, somewhat eagerly be it noted, stepped out of them and kicked them aside with the lonely shoe accompanying them.

  
Then it was the blue (fucking piece of shit, you should never wear this color) bra that vanished from her body and was tossed down the stairs, as far away as possible. When his lips found her breast and the slick tongue played with her nipple, her head fell backwards, hands gripped his shoulders even tighter and the only thought running through her head was how amazing it felt. God, why had she never done this before?

  
Oh right… well, fuck that. Fuck everything, honest to God.

  
Her knees were about to buckle and to keep her standing, he backed her up against the wall, away from the stairs.

  
“I opened yours,” he said suddenly, licking the side of her breast while straightening his back, “Only fair you do mine.”

  
He watched her blush.

  
God, _now_ she blushed?

  
Rogue assumed he knew she’d never done it before, but still, it wasn’t something she liked to announce. Not to him. But he wanted her to admit it, didn’t he? He wanted to hear her say it.

  
But I won’t. I won’t say it.

  
With a shaking hand, she reached down and did as instructed. He groaned out of pleasure when the pressure between his legs was finally released, stepped out of his trousers and boxers, abandoned his shoes… and smirked. Rogue was staring into his eyes.

  
Staring straight into his eyes and biting her bottom lip – again – not daring to look down.

  
How amusing.

  
Wrapping a hand around her neck meaning to pull her lips to his, he suddenly winced, aloud, which was probably the first time she’d hear him sound so exposed. She saw it all in slow-motion, the way he grimaced as the pain jolted through his body, how his skin turned slightly ashen. She could feel him again, inside her head, his voice becoming stronger and stronger, the pain and hatred floating back in waves.

  
But he didn’t let go. He didn’t let go of you and you, you didn’t move either.

  
It felt like an eternity before it – the feeling, the feeling of sucking the life out of him, finally subsided and he started breathing again.

  
If it hadn’t been for the wall, they would’ve both fallen; he collapsed against her, powerless, and she reacted in a way that surprised them both. She raised her arms and embraced him like a child, trying to sooth the pain. Both his hands were flat against the wall, trying to support him.

  
The next few minutes were spent in silence.

  
“Looks like your Cure is temporary,” he pointed out against her neck, but she didn’t listen. There was another voice, another _Pyro_ speaking to her, stealing her attention.

  
And at that moment, at that one incredible, veracious moment, the secret revealed itself before her eyes, lighting every corner of her obscure subconscious. With the secret stripped naked, out in the open, she _understood_. Understood exactly what the reason behind his assault towards those policemen that had angered the mutant, why he left the safety of the school and joined the brotherhood. Why he’d done all those horrible things he’d done… why he’d kept fighting the war to free his kind from prejudice while at the same time only making it worse.

  
Still, you did it believing it was the only way to protect the mutant race, the only fucking family you’ve ever known. You’re fucked up, evil, even, but I know you are capable of love, of that unconditional love that makes everything brighter, better. You can love. On your own terms, in that weird, twisted way of yours, you can love, lust and admire and sometimes, sometimes they’re the same to you.

  
Sometimes there’s no difference.

  
Pyro moved, pulled away just enough to be able to look at her and the little bruises he’d planted on her lips. He had his own fair share, though. His hands were still against the wall whereas hers were still around him as if they belonged there.

  
He noted it with great satisfaction. Maybe they did, you know, belong there. Maybe that is why you don’t belong with _him,_ Rogue.

  
“I don’t know what happened,” Rogue said shyly, but didn’t apologize. Good, he didn’t want her to.

  
“It’s all fine, Rogue, just a little surprise, is all.” She didn’t understand why he sounded so damn amused. She had nearly killed him! Again! Wasn’t he supposed to be angry?

  
“What if it comes back again?”

  
”Then we deal,” he replied, chuckling at the look on her face. She was worried, but she wasn’t worried for him. She was worried for herself. How could they finish their little game if he died in the middle?

  
Didn’t she see it? God, how slow could one be?

  
She wouldn’t be sorry if it happened again. She wouldn’t be sorry if her power would return full-force. Perhaps she didn’t admit it, at least not to him, maybe she didn’t even realize it herself, but if she’d truly wanted to live without her lethal ability, she would’ve been upset right about now. Angry and shocked, because there was a possibility the Cure didn’t work.

  
But it wasn’t the right time to think about all that shit.

  
“Come here,” he said, letting out a hoarse laugh and continued his original plan and invaded her mouth again. Only, it didn’t feel like invading, because in his mind, it was his. She was his.

  
Feeling her naked body against his, it was the only thing needed to bring his erection back alive – she’d kill it pretty efficiently with that little trick of hers.

  
Her panties were the final piece of clothing between them, but not for long.

  
Pyro smelled her. Even now, kissing her, he smelled the scent of essence everywhere and wanted more of it. All of it. She shrieked, surprised when his finger touched her clit and that was that. No more waiting, no more playing.

  
He roughly pushed her up against the wall, lifting her into the air and bringing her legs around his hips while pushing into her, deep, hard. He didn’t warn her, didn’t bother to go easy on her, not even when he clearly felt she’d never done it before. No, and she hadn’t expected him to, either, because this was Pyro, not John, and Pyro didn’t care. Her nails cut into his back and his were leaving their own imprint on her hips.

  
He squeezed them, again and again, hoping there’d be bruises tomorrow to remind her of what she’d done.

  
His pace was fast and hard, with every thrust he wanted to go deeper, touch her hidden core. And with every thrust, she wanted him there, deeper, inside her core.

  
It didn’t take long before he felt her hips respond to his thrusts. Her hear moans get louder and louder, breath hitching. She’d clench her inner muscles around his cock, sway her hips from side to side making his pleasure grow promptly. She’d done it accidentally the first time, but the sound that had escaped his throat, had told her she’d hit a golden spot.

  
Pyro reached his climax with a snarl and if she reached hers, he didn’t notice.

  
Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t care at all, you know, he did… but he was simply too busy wondering the best way to let the popsicle know his girl had been marked by another.

 **\----**

 

  
There was no snuggling afterwards. He lowered them to the floor, her on top of him and just held her there until he finally fell asleep. Her power had really taken its toll on him.

  
Lying there, she could pretend again. Not that it was Bobby, but that it was John. John, who held her, because he loved her, not because he just wanted to keep her there, away from all things he didn’t like.

  
Maybe it was about love. Maybe it wasn’t. All she knew was that his love was nothing like the love she needed.

  
That one day, when you decided to give up on us, John, and join Magneto, I wondered why you’d done it.

  
Now she knew.

  
Because you, Xavier – you chained him, this powerful being, you chained him with your rules and regulations, tried to suffocate the one thing that made him strong.

  
He needed more than we could give.

  
And he can’t give what you need.

  
And because sometimes you have the will to burn and no desire to stop.

  
Still, when the naked pyromaniac (if you didn’t count the socks) woke up from the hotel’s floor later that day, Rogue was already gone.


End file.
